Flash fiction: ‘Oh, say, can you see?’

A strange glow appeared in the sky over Battle Creek; bright yellow like a Subway sandwich store sign that had mated with one of the neon lights from Hots Bar, exuding the same assurance that what was under it wasn’t something anyone would want to eat.

To no one’s surprise the glow didn’t extend past the city limits into Springfield, where the only thing that ever deigned to glow was the flame from the burner on a passing hot air balloon.

When viewed from the orbiting International Space Station, American astronaut Colonel Terry Led Dun commented that Michigan “…looked like a large mitten with a Cheerio stuck in its palm.”

This prompted activists to picket the Kellogg Research Center with signs that not only decried the use of GMOs, but also challenged the marital status of the parents of the scientists. The protest quickly disbursed when researchers hurled large popcorn balls into the crowd. Then they returned to finish their latest achievement: self perpetuating corn flakes.

The cause of the glow wasn’t readily discernible. Politicians played the blame game, Republicans blamed Democrats, Democrats blamed former President Bush, and both blamed the Tea Party, who in turn accused President Obama who couldn’t be reached because he was playing golf in Hawaii.

Government brought in their bureaucrats to study the effect. After taking over the Heritage Tower as temporary headquarters, they proceeded to spent $470 million dollars on the study; $460 million funneled to pollsters charged to find out if the glow was popular, $9 million to look into the glow’s past for former lovers, and $1 million in takeout orders from Captain Louie’s.

The esteemed conclusion reached? The color of the glow is titanium yellow.

Since no one else in the country had their own titanium yellow glow, the government increased the revenue assessment on the city claiming it wasn’t a tax, but a penalty. After all why should Battle Creek have a glow when nowhere else does?

The scientific community brought in their brightest physicists, built a new super collider which circumscribed the city and smashed atoms more efficiently than CERN’s and concluded that the glow is a remnant of the Big Bang, which not only created ripples in the universe’s background radiation, but also light rings analogous to smoke rings.

The ring’s stationary position over the Cereal City meant that it was the de facto center of the universe. Biologists offered the opinion that luminescent algae were the cause. When it was pointed out that the glow was air borne, the biologist quickly retorted, “That’s why it’s called an ‘opinion.’”

Religious adherents put in their widow mite’s worth of thought on the matter and came to a split decision: Battle Creek residents proclaimed that the light came from an angel’s lost halo, and Springfield citizens said that it was a new level of Hell about to descend on the deserving.

Whatever the cause of the light, it disappeared with the coming of the harvest moon in September. Much speculation followed on the “why,” but this was quickly forgotten in December when Kellogg’s came out with their new glow-in-the-dark Fruit Loops which were suitable for both eating and decorating Christmas trees.

Author bio

Herb Haley, 49, has lived in the area all his life, except for the parts when he hasn’t. Herb graduated from BCCHS, STIRC, KCC and WMU and looks forward to the day when he becomes an alumni of IOU. He lives in Albion, and works in Jackson at Flagstar Centre for Alimar Security, Inc.